


The Change

by Random_DATA



Series: -Unnamed Series- [1]
Category: Strange Magic (2015), Strange Magic - Fandom
Genre: (can I ask some one to do my tags? they're so annoying.), ? - Freeform, Action/Adventure, Angst, Crime, F/M, Gang AU, I just wanna start typing, Maybe - Freeform, Romance?, noir?, some action?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_DATA/pseuds/Random_DATA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne is damaged beyond repair.</p><p>Bog has already lost his battle ever since <strong>that fateful night</strong>. </p><p>And their lives have finally collided... Now what will become of the two?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safety

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [As It Goes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576201) by [SyffyLeafy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyffyLeafy/pseuds/SyffyLeafy). 
  * Inspired by [Learned Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429344) by [margoteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/margoteve/pseuds/margoteve). 



> Again. Above fanfics. Are Awesome!!
> 
> I swear. I plan for romance in this part, but it's probably not going to happen. Fcuk.
> 
> But in other news. I hate reading angst.... BUT I LOVE WRITING IT. 
> 
> >:D

 

 

 

 

 

> The pain reflected in her eyes were vivid and real. He could practically see her trying to crawl out of her skin, screaming inside, racking her hands on her cheeks till they bled.
> 
> But that was only what he saw in her eyes. On the outside. She was empty. Her face was blank and she looked up at him in a confused stare. Fixed on his eyes as if they were the most beautiful and peaceful thing after the moon. 
> 
> * * *

 

 

 

This girl had run out of the blazing building, she seemed to be mindlessly dashing forward. Running whereever her feet carried her. But then she slowed and fell to her knees, staring at the sky. Even from this distance, Bog knew. 

 

He didn't know what he knew, but he knew it. It was at the tip of his tongue, on the edge of his mind. There was a connection. For sure. Him and the girl were the same.

 

Bog frowned as he approached the weak destroyed thing. She wore what looked like a sleeveless wedding dress. It was glimmering only slightly and had a rather fluffy collar. She wore long slender gloves that reached past her elbow, everything was edged with gold. Gentle, fragile, and beautiful. 

 

But it was damaged. Grey with smoke and dust. And even the girl in the dress was damaged. Her face still had traces of tears. Bog knew she only just stopped crying.

 

Something tugged. Pulling him toward her. Maybe it was sympathy?

No. Bog would know when he felt sympathy. This was something else, something new... 

 

It urged him, 'come. come closer. go to the girl. Grab her... GRAB HER!'

 

 

Bog scowled.  _Ugh._

He took many steps closer until he towered above her. Only inches apart.

 

 

The girl had opened her eyes then, as if she sensed him near. And what he saw shocked him to a state of trance. She reflected him. He saw him in her eyes. The same pain. The same suffering. ... The same emptiness...

 

Then slowly her eyes drifted shut and she was ready to topple to the side before Bog caught her.

 

She was light. Her shoulders were soft where Bog had grabbed her. 

 

He was mesmerized. Completely caught by her. Bog's thoughts raced and quickened. He was pulled towards this broken down girl. He didn't care why. He wanted to know who. Who was she?

 

 

And of course during the course of his spellbound thoughts, the fire continued to rage. Trang and Steph were far away (not wanting to suffer under Bog's wrath. It was the first time he'd been back on field in a God-knows-how-longgg time), controlling traffic and civilians as far away as possible from the site. Which was the easiest task since almost everyone stayed home after dark now a days.

 

It didn't take long for the media and firetrucks to arrive. Bog had only spent an entire one minute with the broken girl before he heard the first van drive closer.

 

Quickly he hoisted the girl gently in his arms and carried her with him. Running, for the first time in a long while, to his apartment...

 

It was probably overrun with unread mail and layers of dust.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Ugh._

 

When Marianne finally woke, all she felt was a really bad headache. But as she gained more consciousness, she started feeling empty.

Like she tried really,  **really**   **hard** , to do something, and then finding out that she did absolutely nothing.

 

 

 

She felt useless.

 

 

She felt like she was nothing to the world. Like if she left today... no one would care. Nobody would give a damn if she lived or died... or suffered horribly.

 

 

No one.... She was alone... she was empty.

 

Without purpose. Without direction...

SHE WAS NOTHING. 

 

 

And then she opened her eyes.

_It's Dark..._

Marianne slowly started discovering she senses, it was as if she'd never noticed them before. Like it was the first time she  _really_ used her skin and eyes and nose and ears. _  
_

_Mmmm. Soft. And comfortable too..._

Marianne closed her eyes again so she could relish in the feel and smell of her surroundings.

_Smells...nice...homey..._

Not like her home. No. It felt more closer. Like a box of soft cushions. 

 

_Home._

Her brows wrinkled..  _Wait...HOME!?_

 

 

Suddenly she shot up and finally registered where she was. The room she was in was dark. The ceiling looked like petrified dripping paint, in the center there was a small antique looking dome. Marianne wasn't familiar with it, but even she could tell that it was some sort of light fixture. 

She sat on a two seater couch, big, fat, old with age, and worn with use. She was laid across it, like she'd been asleep there, so her feet faced one side of the couch and some distance away, the wall. The couch was some shade of grey, (although Marianne suspected that it might have been white once) her back was facing a tall skinny lamp and another one of the room's walls. On the wall behind her back there was a small window in the middle. Light from the city shining in was the only thing that lit the room. 

In front of the couch was a small coffee table, short, dark brown, and also antique looking. It had two cups of black liquid in it. It seemed to be the source of the homey smell. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness.

Beyond the coffee table however, a bit more than half a meter apart, was a small flat stand supporting a what-looked-like a 48" tv. It looked like the worst tv in the world, not even close to half the size of Marianne's personal tv back home.

 

... _Crap...It's that word again..._

 

Home. She didn't want to think about it... "Ughhhh" Marianne let that groan slip out unconsciously, not realizing that there was another being in the room.

"Guid Morning"

The deep Scottish accent startled her, panicked, Marianne yelled a bit too loudly, "Who's there!?"  
The reality hadn't hit her until this moment.  
_Ohmygod I'm in another person's home...A STRANGER'S HOME! And it's a guy! Ohmygod...I might not see tomorrow... I might..I might not be alive for much longer!! What can I use to keep the creep away!?_

 

While her thoughts scrambled, Marianne was almost ready to reach out for the cup on the coffee table and throw it at the disembodied voice, when a tall man in dress shirt and messy tie strode in casually. "awake already are we?" This time his voice was a bit slower, and his accent hidden. He had stubble all over his pointy chin and sleep deprived eye bags on his face. His sharp cheeks made him look like another starved deranged victim in a horrible crime.

 

The moment she glanced at his eyes however, she couldn't stop her self as a hushed whisper left her lips, "Death?"

 

The man smiled a small slow smile. "No. But I sure as hell feel like it." Then he reached for the cups on the table, giving one to her. "But this always helps. Perhaps it'll work miracles on you too."

 

Marianne gingerly accepted the drink, holding the cup in her hands, she corrected her position on the couch, allowing room for the stranger to sit. "Who are you, and what do you want?" Coming from a rich family meant danger, so Marianne was briefed as a child on what to do in situations like these... _Then again. Even IF I did escape...Where would I go?_

 

"Calm yur self there. I saved you from the fire in that, Atwood, building. You fainted out at front. And as part of my duty I retained onto you for questioning and details. Although this would've been more convincing if I had actually taken you back to my office instead of..(gesturing around) this." He said the last word with dripping hate.

 

"Part of your duty!?"

"Aye. I'm the commissioner of this here fine city." More hate and sarcasm. But this time Marianne could slightly relate to his hate filled tone.

"So. Why DID you bring me here?"

"It was closer."

"..."

"The media had arrived on scene."

"Oh." Marianne knew how the media worked all too well. "You know they would've seen you anyways right?

"Heh. Trust me quine, I know my way 'round the city better than they're sad camera crews."

 

Then the man took a sip from his cup. Once done he took up a more formal tone. "My name is Mr. King. And as you already know, I am the commissioner, or the chief of police if you will. I found you on site of a fire, a possible arson case, in one of the most finest buildings the city has. You seemed to be the first (and only thus far) persons whos successfully fled the scene with minimal damage. Now not only will I need your credentials, I'll also be needing a full account of what happened in that building, and who else was with you during the incident, and most importantly why you were the only one rushing out the moment the flames caught full speed."

 

A moment of silence filled the room. Marianne thought thing over. Carefully reflecting of what she should say... Finally she came to a decision.

 

 

"It was me."

And she took a casual tentative sip out of the cup. Tasting cheap strong black coffee for the first time in her life.  
_Ugh. Disgusting._

_I'll never get used to it._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 


	2. Bad coffee, Good memories, and better company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne are about to begin a long long journey...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. But it's something.

"There's a man I know who works for a gang... He was in the building and I learned that he had plans for the Atwood name and their money."

"It still doesn't explain why you set the fire."

Marianne was a bit surprised, she expected the man to jump and arrest her and sentence her to death (and she was fine with that). But instead he was still sitting, just as calm as her if not more, and even letting her speak. She never knew much about how the police force worked anyways. Maybe this was a thing they did... 

His question was still hanging in the air, Marianne couldn't even pretend to take another sip from the cup. She very much disliked the coffee, but the question was even worse. She thought about what she felt... her life was so perfect. So planned. Beautiful, pretty, and a very bright and sparkling life she used to lead... But now it's starting to make sense... Dawn was close to Sunny because he was the one who introduced her to those drugs. He supplied her... And he was getting everything from Roland...

 

But why... Sunny was a good kid. Kind, gentle, clumsy... He couldn't have done such a thing to Dawn... And the better question is why was Dawn even taking them... Her life was just as good, in fact it was probably better since Dawn never had to worry about taking over the family business. She simply enjoyed the spoils of being a rich kid. Things weren't making sense anymore, the more connections she found, the more muddled everything was getting.

 

He was getting impatient... This woman hadn't bothered to answer his question for a good solid minute.

"Alright then..."

Then a soft sob came from her, cutting Bog off. _Great. Just great._ He hated girls in his own apartment, especially the ones that start crying. He never invited them in the first place, and he hated the feeling of uselessness as the girl cried. But this girl was different, not only was she actually brought here by himself, she actually looked like she didn't want to cry. This made him silent, perhaps she was going to speak.

 

"It doesn't make sense... You." Marianne lifted her head to face Bog. "You're a cop. So you can help right?"

 

"Help? How?"

 

"I... Do. Do you know something about the Dark Forest?"

 

Oh crap. Bog went cold with shock and realization. SHE could be one of them. This girl who started the fire... She could be one of the gang members and he brought her right to the dragons nest... Cautiously he eyed her, her acting was good, he had busted spies before and none were as good as her.

"The gang that's been tryin' to take the entire city? Yeah, I know, what about them?"

 

"Yeah, well it turns out that they've been trying to take over the Atwood family. They had these ties with our servants, and other rich families. And they had these lists of names and drugs and drinks, even. Plans to take over the city, assassinations, murders. Kidnappings. And I don't know what else..."

Marianne's head was racing. Hurting, but racing, she had so few puzzle pieces that the picture was more confusing then helpful. She realized she dropped the iPad somewhere, which was stupid since it was the one thing that could help her. It was the only thing with all the plans and names and other important things... Where. Where did she drop it?

 

"Our servants? You're an Atwood?"

 

"Yes, but it's n-"

 

"And how did you know about all this? Did someone tell you?"

 

"No, I just happened to intercept the delivery of a package. It had an iPad full of folders with weird names and addresses and plans..."

 

"Please tell me you know where it is."

 

Marianne looked up at him weakly, even without the light Bog knew what her face was saying.. He was way in over his head... When he saved this girl, he had no idea she was an Atwood. He was buried under piles of paper, making connections, linking crimes, doing desk work till early mornings. He needed this iPad. It was the break he needed, the one thing that seemed too good to be true. The piece of tech that had it all. Places, plans, names!? 

 

"It's in the building though isn't it..."

 

"It must be."

 

"Good." Briskly getting up he headed for the door beside the small TV. "Don't open the locked doors, don't leave the apartment, and don't use the lights unless you absolutely have to. The bathroom is down the hallway and there's food in the fridge."

 

"Wait. Wh-"

 

"I'll be back." With that the door clicked shut.

 

Marianne had never met such a rude man. In the past people always said hello, are you alright, please don't cry, and goodbyes in this sort of situation... but thinking back to it. The situations were trivial compared to this. The man had distracted her from herself, and now that she was alone in the semi-dark, her feeling of utter loss and emptiness became noticed.

She set the mug of black liquid back on the table, sinking back into the couch. All her strength was gone. Her mind was strained and tired. The emotions she felt earlier were on a  whole new different level. She was feeling murderous and deadly. Unstoppable and angry. Pain and... well. It can't be loss. Losing a guy like Roland had to be a win, not a loss... But she did lose a sister. Her father. Friends. Servants. Her life.

 

And memories. Good ones. The times when she and her servants played, or when her sister and herself pulled pranks on Sunny, and the times he'd exact revenge... Those were when they were all still innocent. When her life was perfect...

 

Now all she wanted was sleep. Lots of it.

 

Marianne was tried of it. Tired of trying to figure things out, tired of feeling hurt. Tired of feeling so... empty.

 

 

She's better than this. She has to be...  **She wants to be.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to believe that my writing is getting better...
> 
> Like is the key word here.


	3. Out of an Old Building and Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't do this at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter?
> 
> Let's find out...

Within minutes, Bog was out the building and back on the streets, coat collar pulled up to hide as much of his face as possible.

 

Thinking as he walked back towards the burning building blocks away, he regretted leaving the girl back in his apartment. Atwood or no, she could have made the whole story up, after all she was the only one who fled the scene the moment the flames took the floor of the building, not to forget that **she** was the one who actually started the damn fire...  
He didn't even know why he was being so lenient towards her, first he saves her, brings her  _willingly_ to his apartment, then he actually was about to jump into a burning building on  _her_ word. This could've been an elaborate ploy to kill him, the gang would always have a threat as long as he lived...

His presence in the police force had changed the game for the Dark Forest. He made it harder for them to work freely as they once did so before, even succeeding in weeding out all their bribed people and spies from his domain. Bog King made sure that **all** the people in his station could be trusted, he drove determination into every cop, detective, and otherwise.

He knew that if he died, the whole force would fall back into what they used to be... Corrupted, lazy, and untrustworthy. He knew he gave them hope again, in fact half the time he was hiding after **that fateful night,**  he was trying to avoid looking at their faces. Though he knew on one said it, he was afraid that he had failed them all. He was a hypocrite, telling them to never give up when he was the one laying at the bottom of a bottle... He had failed them... like he'd failed his father... and...  _ **her.**_

 

Now wasn't the time to think about his pitiful past, Bog picked up speed and finally rounded a corner, stopping short for a few seconds to take in the scene before him...

When he first arrived on the scene, the floor on fire only had puffs of smoke bellowing out, now however, half the building was consumed in brilliant bright yellow flames. The fire burned through the building as if it were made of coal, quickly spreading up, the smoke blended with the sky and clouds above, hovering above the city like an ominous message...

 

Bog knew what was going to happen... the building was filled with flames and smoke. He's going to have difficulty breathing, seeing, and walking.

He didn't have a plan. He simply bowed his head down and raced past the camera crews, first responders, fire fighters, and victims lucky enough to escape the hungry tongue of the flames. A gut feeling told him that he was going to die an idiot. He barreled past the audience and into the front doors of the Atwood building... His common sense and thinking went out the window.

 

* * *

 

 

"CAN YOU HURRY UP!?! WE NEED TO MAKE SURE IT'S ALL DESTROYED!!"

In the flames stood a woman, tall, dark, and imposing. Her long dark hair lifted a bit in the fire's heat, it made her look like she was the cause of the flames (which was only partially true). Her eyes weren't blue naturally, she wore colored contacts so that her gaze could chill her prey to their bones, and of course it was working like a charm (or is should it be a hex?). The dress she wore was almost like a second skin, but with navy blue shimmering sequins. She sported a heavy duty tank which she used to breathe with, the mask completed the 'mass murder killer' look she seemed to be aiming for.

 

Of the four scrambling men, Roland was the only one who stood up, looked her in the face and replied in a frustrated voice, "I-i'm trying! But it may as well have been destroyed!"

 

"DO NOT FORGET YOUR PLACE, ROLAND! AND YOU DARE QUESTION ME?"

Mumbling submissively, Roland went back to picking through ashes of furniture and other damaged objects. Occasionally one of the men would find what they were looking for and destroy it, a smashed camera here, a destroyed phone there, and leading the fire (with anything flammable really) to a must-burn spot.

During their grim business, the building was groaning, the floors were ready to collapse on them at any moment. But they would rather die under the derbies than disobey the angry woman who was overseeing their work. She was loyal to a tee and never questioned the orders she was to carry out. Unbeknownst to all of them however, there was a shadow on the far wall, watching the events unfold. 

 

Bog King was stuck here for know, in the burning building that was probably soon to be his grave. He was now only too sure that the people he was watching were expendable members of the Dark Forest and were simply sent to destroy evidence of their links in high society before the fire could be put out. He did note the woman though, she had a firefighter's oxygen tank with her. She seemed much too smart to be expandable... He should have probably done the same. The firefighters were like a neutral country. They could be helping the Dark Forest and the citizens, despite how conflicting it sounds. Somehow they always managed to save lives while still being in cahoots with the gang.

After a while of watching the gang members go about their work, Bog decided to do something before his final moments and scoured other areas not completely consumed with flames for anything really. He took note on how the gang members had burned almost any electronic device left behind. He had seen them try and play with the fire, shaping it almost... Using whatever was flammable to cover their tracks...resourceful sons of bitches...

Bog came to the conclusion that the girl in his apartment wasn't the culprit for the whole indecent... But that **doesn't** prove that she's  **not** in cahoots with the notorious gang.

 

It was only a complete minute of silent flames devouring the building before an alarming sound echoed throughout the entire place. A large groan from the many floors above was like an alarm to the people remaining in the building, and Bog wasn't ready to die that easy.

He quickly tried to retrace his steps, only to find his path blocked. Like a rat in a maze he desperately sought out every corridor, every door, going this way and that, no one could help him now.

Panic was rising in his chest, his heartbeat racing. He wasn't thinking clearly, he even saw this coming, he was an idiot. Why in the clear blue blazes would he ever walk into a burning building on the whims of a girl who set the building on fire in the first place...  _ugh. great. Just Great._

 

Just as the ceiling began to cave-in he spotted a window out of the corner of his eye.  _Screw it._ he thought,  _who cares if I'm on the third floor of a fucking sky-scraper._

 

* * *

 

 

"That's our cue boys."

The men gathered themselves and made their way out of the building, the air outside was welcoming and sweet on their skin, faces, and burning lungs. In the building they had to bear with working in the smoke, while the woman had a full blown oxygen tank with her. The fire's path was created strategically, so it was possible to breathe... Just barely.

The men were to act as victims as they escaped through the front doors and into the arms of the ever hungry media, the woman however took a different route out, almost walking through fire multiple times to reach a side-door out. When she was free of the flames and far away enough, she handed the tank to one of the firefighters on scene.

"It's been done. Within a matter on minutes the floors will collapse on themselves and completely cover our trail."

 

The mask hid the identity of the firefighter, but somehow it was obvious that the person smiled. "Perfect. You've done your job very well indeed."

"As long as you keep up your end of the deal."

"It's already been done."

 

* * *

 

 

"SIR!? OH MY GOD! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?"

A female in an EMS uniform rushed towards Roland, her hands finding his shoulder and arm, scanning his face. Roland looked at her at the perfect angle, looking helpless and hurt, he spoke in a weak hoarse voice, "please, I... I'm having trouble... breathing..."

 

It wasn't actually a lie, the wicked woman had overworked them in the fire and waited for the last minute to let him and his servants out. Now his nose felt like it wasn't working, it was getting really hard to swallow and he had a nasty headache coupled with the delightful sensation that he was about to puke in front of the cameras.

He didn't know why he ever got involved in the first place... If only he had more money... If only he had more power... If only  **he** was in charge... If only he had married Marianne...

 

_Sunny is going to pay dearly for his actions._

And then Roland lost consciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

"Ughhhhh...."

 

Damn. He was beyond fucking lucky. 

Aside from minor bruising (and a few cuts that might or might not scar) he had actually survived jumping out of the damn window... Testing each limb, he was relieved by the lack of swarming people, it meant the no one saw him jump out. And maybe... _just maybe_ if his luck was any better, the cameras weren't able to catch his face as he ran into the building.

A tree had broken his fall, the branches caught him, then took the liberty of digging into his skin and ripping more than a few layers of it in certain places. His only good coat was now ripped and ruined, in some places the branches were even able to cut his dress shirt and trousers, reaching skin even.

But his hands got the worst of it, luckily he didn't give a shit, he simply continued to test his limbs before he climbed down from the tree and dusted himself. Bog then proceeded to walk, or rather tried hard not to limp, back home. 

 

Until a thought struck him.

The girl is still in his home. And she's still a suspect... Lord knows what she'll do when she finds out that Bog had survived the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fifth edit... Why is this chapter so hard?


	4. Begging for Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So while Bog is jumping out of windows, let's see what Marianne is doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help me... I'm typing this in 2am in the morning...

Marianne had her eyes shut for so long. Yet sleep never even bothered to come over.

She felt like a fool. So many things happened and she was blind to it all. Like she was never part of the real world. And now that she was tired from the truth, the world wouldn't let her sleep...

 

She didn't want to think about it anymore, but at the same time Marianne wanted to. She was conflicted. Confused, and an anger was beginning to grow inside of her...

 

All of this happened... and she, like  **a fool** never noticed a damn thing...

Her sister Dawn. Lost.

And Marianne didn't even know why... She expected herself to somehow know. Dawn was using drugs. And drugs were widely used for feeling good. Feeling better than the usual self... Or at least that was what she was taught.

So why? Why was Dawn wanting to so desperately feel good in the worst way possible?

 

A painful moan escaped Marianne, she struggled on the couch, rolling over, twisting this way and that... but there was no peace. There was no comfort. No escape from her mind...

The thoughts just kept streaming in, a mile a minute. Each one dealing it's own damage. 

But what hurt the most was the bottom-line... Marianne didn't know  _anything_ about Dawn. Her own sister...

 

Marianne easily recalled all the times Dawn was left alone. Back then she was too consumed. SELFISH. She now realized that she had only ever thought of herself. Every waking moment. Everything she did in her former life... All the classes she took to be the heir, when she should have been a sister...All the times she...she wasted time with that... _ **That scumbag**_... when she should have been a friend to the one girl who actually mattered. Her sister. Dawn.

 

 

"Oh... Dawn. I'm so sorry. So very sorry..." Tears once again found their way down Marianne's cheeks, hearing herself admit it out loud hurt more than she could bare. 

It was unforgivable to her, she was untrustworthy. Didn't deserve a damn thing. No wonder sleep hadn't welcomed her...Marianne didn't deserve sleep...There  **was no** sleep for the wicked...

 

 

And Sunny... How DARE he... How  _could_ he?

 

He was always genuine. Good. Kind natured. But apparently it was all an act!

How could Marianne let such a...such a manipulative, monster NEAR Dawn!?!

 

Like what the ACTUAL Fuck!?! WHY!?!

 

And Roland!?! Really!?! Was she so stupid!?! 

 

...

 

No wait. She was. And she always has been. 

So blind to reality.

If she was delusional enough to follow (and fucking practically worship) the bastard, then no wonder she missed everything else...

 

Marianne gave up. There was no point begging for sleep. Sitting up on the couch, she felt numb. To everything.

 

She didn't want this anymore... She didn't want herself to live knowing what she did, and what she let happen.

 

She didn't want Marianne alive anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddd I finished it in record time actually... 3:36am 
> 
> Edit count: 3
> 
> But I don't regret it!!
> 
> Thank you for your comments!
> 
> I enjoy writing although at times I do hit an occasional speed bump.
> 
> But your comments are literally what fuels my writing. (Get it? Comment equals to chapters, mind blown?)


	5. The Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter to this arc.
> 
> DON'T worry the story's not over yet!
> 
> This is a series after all!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Must... write... chapter...
> 
> It's the opposite of writers block!! But I feel like I'm drunk typing these chapters...
> 
> Note to self: Edit before submitting.

Marianne sat in the silence for a long while. 

 

The dark clouds in the sky somehow reduced the amount of city light coming in through the small stuffy window...

She needs to do something. She can't bare it. Just breathing is getting difficult.

 

Her body's beginning to tremble slightly from another wave of anger. Ending her life!?

What was she thinking!?! Just disappearing didn't make the problems go away!!!

The gang, the Dark Forest. The drugs. Roland. All of them. THOSE ARE the things that need to disappear!! 

 

Marianne knew she can't change the past, but she sure as hell can shape the future.

That gang is going down if it's the last thing she did...

 

 

GURGLE.

 

Just as soon as she eats something.

 

Marianne had found a new purpose, a quest, a mission. And this was her first step. With new found energy she quickly raised from her seat, making her way to the kitchen.

Marianne never noticed just how small the apartment was... Heck she didn't actually care anymore anyways. Enough of big rooms and impressive buildings. No more Marianne the ' _little bitch_ '. From now on it was JUST Marianne. And nothing else. She didn't even deserve her family name...

 

The man was right about the fridge at least, there was food. But heating it would have been a whole other matter. She grabbed a random container, she wasn't a chef, and she never cooked a day in her life.

Nothing in Mr.King's fridge even came  **close** to the food Marianne was used to seeing. But a Tupperware of plain rice somehow called to her.

...

What happened next was all thanks to the weird blip in Marianne's head...

 

She was setting the dish on the table, when her eyes fixed on her gloves... her wedding gloves...

 

And in an instant, she snapped.

 

Roland.

Her anger.

Everything.

Like a rabid animal Marianne grabbed at her dress, how many times was her anger built up? How many times did she ignore it, keep it trapped in her?

 

All her life her anger was held in, forced to be bottled up. She was a refined lady, throwing tantrums was something only spoiled brats do.

 

But now? Now it didn't matter anymore. Marianne was free, and so was her anger.

Marianne pulled the gloves off, and attacked her dress like a savage. Fingers ripping through expensive material and fragile gold lines. Slowly sinking to the floor, her head facing the ceiling, a loud scream ripped out of her.

 

This felt good. This felt  **right.** She was should have let her anger escape her more often.

 

And in the middle of her ripping apart her wedding dress and screaming her head off, the door opened.

 

Bog rushed in, bruised and sweaty, the screaming was cause of concern, "What's -!!!"

Then he saw Marianne. 

On the floor.

With fists full of cloth... 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> DON'T FORGET TO COMMENT TO ENCOURAGE ME TO WRITE MORE! 
> 
>  
> 
> Reasons to comment:  
> -complaints  
> -requests  
> -questions  
> -concerns  
> -critiques  
> -reviews  
> Comments = new chapters. 
> 
> Replies do not count, and comments from the same user are only excepted if I can write that many chapters...
> 
>  
> 
> And that my friends. Is how I'm going to roll.


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